


Spools of Ribbon

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: GerIta Oneshots [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fasion Designer, Alternate Universe - Human, Feliciano Vargas - Freeform, Ludwig Beilschmidt - Freeform, M/M, gerita - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ah, hello?”</p><p>Feliciano spun, the roll of ribbon flying out of his hand and unspooling across the floor. “You must be Ludwig! I saw you the other day at Francis’ show, oh, no, it’s fine I drop ribbon all the time. Lovino has a guy who helps me clean up at the end of the day.”</p><p>Ludwig attempted a smile. “Mr. Vargas.”</p><p>"Ludwig, call me Feliciano. <i>That</i> suit is too small for you, but luckily, I am a fashion designer. Come here, take that off, and we’ll find something better for interviews. Come on,” Feliciano beckoned with his hand, leading Ludwig deeper into his workshop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spools of Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aminoprince](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aminoprince).



Feliciano loved these things. Lovino most likely brought him here so that Feliciano could compare his fashions with others; Feliciano didn’t pay any attention to his older brother. After all, the point of fashion wasn’t to compare, but to show. Feelings, moods, ideas, and settings could all be changed by a stitch.

“Oh, Lovino, look at what Francis did with that sketch—“

“Your sketch,” Lovino growled, barely looking up from his phone. “You gave him your sketch and—surprise, surprise—he made it into a dress. Pay attention, see if anything is similar to your collection for winter.”

Feliciano leaned over, watching Lovino’s phone. “Who’re you emailing?”

“Fashion show. Attention. Pay,” Lovino snapped, pushing Feliciano’s face away from him and returning his attention to the screen.

A woman in a short dress waltzed down the raised isle in the middle of the crowd. Feliciano hadn’t caught the name of Francis’ exhibit, but he guessed it had something to do with missing. The model’s dress looked far too short, almost like it needed an accompanying skirt or pants.

A male model was next. He must have been new; his stride was off, and though he was trying to be confident, there was certain skittishness when the cameras flashed. Feliciano hummed, paying no attention to the outfit the man was wearing.

"Lovino, can we get a new model?”

“No. Especially not that piece of shit up on the catwalk now.”

Feliciano sighed, leaning against his brother. “He’s not a piece of shit, he’s just new! Remember, Antonio was new, and Natalia was new, and—“

“They were different,” Lovino groaned, pushing his brother away. “ _They_ weren’t shy. Besides, we can’t afford to keep another model on rotation. And _this_ one is scary.”

It only took a phone call to Francis for Feliciano to arrange a meeting with the model.

Feliciano was working on one of the collection pieces, singing softly to himself as he worked. There was a simple pleasure in creating outfits, something like cooking. Too much of one thing, and the whole dish was ruined; the same went for fashion. Though, Feliciano was having trouble with this silly ribbon…

“Ah, hello?”

Feliciano spun, the roll of ribbon flying out of his hand and unspooling across the floor. “You must be Ludwig! I saw you the other day at Francis’ show, oh, no, it’s fine I drop ribbon all the time. Lovino has a guy who helps me clean up at the end of the day.”

Ludwig attempted a smile. “Mr. Vargas.”

"Ludwig, call me Feliciano. _That_ suit is too small for you, but luckily, I am a fashion designer. Come here, take that off, and we’ll find something better for interviews. Come on,” Feliciano beckoned with his hand, leading Ludwig deeper into his workshop.

Ludwig looked around Feliciano’s workspace. “This is… Very different. From the main office.”

Lovino tried to keep everything as organized in the office as possible; the lobby to the Vargas Fashion Company was clean, and that was all that really mattered. Feliciano was allowed his own designing space. His office a colorful, cluttered, utterly chaotic mess.

“Mm, just cleaned it up,” Feliciano murmured, reaching the clothes rack where he hung the suits. “But, Ludwig, this isn’t about me! Tell me, how did you get into modeling?” He peaked over the rack, “You certainly don’t have the normal body type for this sort of thing!”

Ludwig face lit up like a flame, and he looked anywhere but at Feliciano. “My brother knows Francis.”

Feliciano’s beamed like ten watt bulb. “So that _was_ your first show! Here, try this on. Oh, no, go ahead, I’m back stage during shows, I’ve seen worse. You were very good for your first show!” Feliciano sat on a nearby stool, back to Ludwig, grabbing one of the half-filled sketch books.

“Why did you call me here today, Mr. Vargas?” Ludwig asked. Despite being a huge guy, his voice cracked in the middle of the question.

“I don’t know how much you know about my shows, but I like to use a variety of body types to model my clothes. We keep a rooster—ah, roster of models for the different types I need.” Feliciano checked over his shoulder.

Ludwig was not done changing, but Feliciano was slow to look back at his sketchbook.

"Anyways, I was wondering if you’d be interested in being in my next—“

“No,” Ludwig cut in quickly, clearing his throat to let Feliciano know he had finished changing. “Francis’ show was a onetime deal. I…” He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. “Lost a bet. However, I don’t plan on continuing to model. Get _in_ to modeling.”

Feliciano spun around his chair, hopping up. “Well, you don’t have to decide right away!” Feliciano laughed, walking around Ludwig in a slow circle. “The suit looks nice. That other one was way too small, and it didn’t look too good. Now, you should wear that. You can have it.”

Feliciano walked away from Ludwig, toward the front of his office. Ludwig let out a confused noise and followed after him.

“What?” Ludwig asked, sounding exasperated. “I can’t just take the suit—“ He stumbled on his words when Feliciano turned to him. “It’s yours, it costs money. At least let me pay…” He blushed again when he realized his wallet was in his other pants.

“Well, you _can_ do something for me…”

Lovino was irate. “What the _fuck_ is that lumbering jackoff-nugget doing at the fitting?”

Feliciano looked over Antonio’s shoulder, talking around the clothing pins in his mouth. “He’s here to get fitted. Don’t be mean, he’s super nervous about being here. Just be nice and introduce him to the other models and explain to him how this works.”

Lovino had a minor fit, cursing in rapid Italian and then Spanish when Antonio attempted to interject. Feliciano ignored him, continuing to fit Antonio’s outfit. It was only when Ludwig began to look really uncomfortable that Feliciano finally interrupted.

“Lovino, _you_ fit Antonio, and I’ll help Ludwig.”

Feliciano handed Lovino the clothing pins and walked toward Ludwig, ignoring the angry shout after him. Ludwig had worn the suit Feliciano had given him last week; as he gazed out the office window, Feliciano could picture him on the front of a magazine.

“Ludwig, you came!” Feliciano chirped.

The man jumped, turning away from the window and nodding. “Mr. Vargas—Feliciano.” His gaze slid over Feliciano and focused on the hubbub of the fitting. The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “There aren’t any other models my size. Who am I—“

Feliciano waved his hand, leading Ludwig toward the quieter part of the office. “Well, there technically _isn’t_ a model your size, because I was going to use you, but you didn’t want that, so now I just have all these ideas and no one to test them on! You know, you’re actually classified as a plus sized model?”

Ludwig followed uncertainly. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. You’re not _plus_ plus sized, but your chest and weight measurements would be through the roof. Here, put this on? You can go behind that rack of clothes there, if you’re embarrassed.”

Feliciano hummed as he searched one of the nearby tables for a sketch pad. Lovino always commanded that Feliciano have a set number of designs for a show, but in the end, it didn’t matter as long as everything looked alright on the catwalk.

“But I think that clothes look better for the people they were meant for. You wouldn’t put a business woman in a dress made for little girls, and most of the time, the dresses and outfits that walk down the runway aren’t for people people.” Feliciano began to sketch Ludwig’s rough body shape. “Not that most people are, well… Really, really muscular.”

Ludwig let out a grunt, and the rack shot forward a couple of feet.

Feliciano slid from his stool. “Did you fall?”

“Ja.”

The laugh that escaped Feliciano’s lips surprised him. Ludwig looked around the wheels of the rack, cheeks turning the loveliest shade of blood orange. Feliciano walked toward Ludwig, getting down on his knees a few feet away from Ludwig.

“We’re going to have to teach you how to change a little quicker!”

Lovino chose this time to scream in Italian. “Oi! Feliciano, would you mind coming to help a little bit?! Natalia is a bitch to fit, and she wants to ask you about the hem line, so do you think you can get your lazy, pretentious ass over here and _help_!?”

Feliciano sighed, smile still on his face. “Hey, could you do me another favor…”

“Mr. Vargas?”

“Oh, it’s too early, it’s super early,” Feliciano moaned, head resting on his table. “Gosh, thank you for coming in so early, I didn’t—Oh, you’re dressed.” Meanwhile, Feliciano was wearing a tank top and his boxers.

The weak, early morning sunlight streamed through the windows, silhouetting Ludwig in his too-small suit. Feliciano once again though Ludwig would look very good on a magazine cover. Maybe Feliciano could call and arrange something.

“Did you expect me to be in my pajamas?” Ludwig crossed his arms. “I’ve been up for three hours already.”

Feliciano shrugged, laughing. “Well, then, why don’t we start if you’re already so awake? Show me your walk. Yeah, just right here, like you would at the show.”

Ludwig uncrossed then crossed his arms again. Then, shaking his head, he took a few hesitant steps across the floor. After a nervous glance at Feliciano, he took another few steps. Feliciano hummed, watching; if Ludwig could get out of his own head, he would have a great stride.

Surprisingly, “What got you into design? Or…” Ludwig spun and walked back in front of Feliciano, stepping over abandoned spools of thread. “Whatever you call this business?”

“Use your hips a little more—oh, gosh, not like that!” Feliciano shook his head, resting his chin back on the table and watching Ludwig strut. “Well, a lot of my friends in high school felt bad about the way they looked. So, I would help them make dresses they felt good about wearing, and then a whole bunch of people started to come to me so that I could make their dresses, and then I submitted some of my designs and got accepted—What do you do, Ludwig?”

A sharp turn of the heel. “I work at the DMV.”

“Really? What’s that like? Is it interesting? Do you give teenagers their licenses or do you give them their road test? Have you ever failed someone?” Feliciano stood, coming to the front of his desk to watch Ludwig closer.

“I fail lots of people,” Ludwig said, altering his path so he was a good four feet away from Feliciano.

“I don’t think I could fail anyone, because all they want to do is drive, and it isn’t that hard, anyways. You know I failed my road test three times? Wait, wait, notice how you’re walking right now!” Feliciano waved his hands, hoping Ludwig wouldn’t—

He stopped, looking at Feliciano. “How was I walking?”

Feliciano let out a breathy laugh and stood next to Ludwig. “Well, I can’t really describe it, it was your walk! It was right after I said I had failed by test…” Feliciano began to walk, motioning for Ludwig to follow next to him. “And you sort of threw back your shoulders and… No, no,” he fell back into giggles, patting Ludwig on the back.

“What’s so funny?” Ludwig’s face was concerned, but he seemed amused at Feliciano’s laughter. He didn’t seem so serious, anyways.

“Look, just try to seem confident and natural. Pretend like no one is watching you and…” Feliciano tapped his finger against his lips. “Pretend like you’ve just had the worse driver ever, and it’s their sixth time of trying, and then your boss yells at you—yes! Right there!”

Ludwig looked pleased, giving Feliciano a hesitant, small, yet definitely a smile.

“Alright, now take your clothes off.”

Lovino, who had heard this through the half-open door, let out a distant, distressed cry. His angry voice came closer, “You put that piece of shit on the pay roll, and now you’re _sleeping_ with him? God damn it, Feliciano—you’re not putting that outfit in the exhibition, are you?”

Ludwig only ended up modeling one outfit, but he was perfect. Long, confident strides, regardless of the camera flashes and crowd whispers. Lovino, nose practically pressed against in phone’s screen, mumbled something about how Ludwig was a _decent_ model. Still, Feliciano could only sigh with admiration as Ludwig turned quickly on his heel and marched back down the catwalk.

“You could be a model.”

Ludwig glanced up over his newspaper, raising an eyebrow. Feliciano grinned at Ludwig, taking another spoonful of cereal.

“I’m serious, Ludwig, you could be. We could do another show, and I have all these great ideas, or we could sign you up for a magazine, because Francis already has a foot in on one of the newer companies, and don’t shake your head!”

Ludwig smiled, turning a page. “I’ve already _been_ a model, Feliciano.”

“Mm, no, you’ve _modeled_ , but you haven’t been a _model_.”

Ludwig shrugged, too busy in the finance section of the _Times_ to debate the matter again. Feliciano watched him, planning out photo shoots and outfits in his head, wishing for all the world that Ludwig would let Feliciano show _everybody_ how handsome he was.

“Well,” Feliciano hummed, “You _can_ be a model.”


End file.
